


A Friend Indeed

by fuzipenguin



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-13 21:58:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A moment in time between Wheeljack and Ratchet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Friend Indeed

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written/posted 3/12. For livejournal's ffdemon's prompt 'A friendship moment between the two, hurt/comfort could be nice'

       “Ratch, come on,” Wheeljack said, coming to a stop behind the medic and willing him to turn.  
  
       “You go ahead,” Ratchet replied, not moving an inch.  
  
       Wheeljack gazed around the medbay, shuffling his feet before moving forward and standing [next](http://fuzipenguin.livejournal.com/345988.html) to Ratchet.  
  
       The two stood in silence for several minutes before Wheeljack spoke up. “He’s going to be alright.”  
  
       Ratchet’s lipplates pursed, and he shook his head minutely. “He’s not out of trouble yet. Those welds…”  
  
       “… will hold.” Wheeljack reached out and grasped Ratchet’s elbow. “You checked them four times. I checked them twice. His sparkbeat is stable now.”  
  
       “He could crash again. We could lose them both,” Ratchet replied, gaze moving to the next bed over, to the mech lying there still and powered down.  
  
       “He could,” Wheeljack admitted, and Ratchet turned his head to stare at his friend, stricken and angry.  
  
       “But what good are you going to do him, the both of them, if your processor is running so slow you make a mistake?” Wheeljack continued. “Two hours, Ratchet. Two hours and a cube of energon, and then you can come back and keep watch. First Aid is right here.”  
  
       Ratchet wavered on his feet, his dim optics rising to see the apprentice staring back calmly from across the room. The CMO’s gaze met Wheeljack’s, and Ratchet’s shoulders slumped.  
  
       “I’m tired, ‘Jack,” Ratchet admitted, barely louder than a whisper. His optics swept over his two patients, the crimson and gold plating gleaming dully.  
  
       Wheeljack slid his hand up Ratchet’s arm and across his shoulders, exerting gentle pressure to get him moving. The scientist’s head bowed and his grip tightened as Ratchet stumbled the first few steps.  
  
       “I know, Ratch. I know,” he murmured back.


End file.
